Somehow I've Found
by Sammy's Missing Shoe
Summary: "The Winchesters' lives had always been weird. Suddenly throw a half-demon, half-human toddler, and her full-demon mother into the mix and things'll get even weirder." Sam and Dean catch wind of a hunt that ends up being a little more complicated than they'd hoped. Part of a series, but full backstory is inside. Rated T, but warning for slightly more intense and implicit language.
1. To See How It All Began

**AN:** Before I say anything else, I first have to give the biggest thank you to SuperVikinggirl. It has been over three months since she sent me the request for this story, and this is honestly how long it's taken me to get it completed. Her prompt was as follows: "I think that I'd love to see Sam and Dean contend with all of the above while trying to deal with the aftermath of a hunt going 'seven ways from wrong' which results in both our boys injured, but Sam runs himself ragged trying to take care of Dean's serious injuries, Angela's budding powers and Meg just being a demon and not really helping...at least in the start." Luckily the whole thing is written out, I just have to get it typed up, so there won't be an unbearably long wait in between chapters. Story and chapter titles from a _Three Days Grace_ song, _Lost In You._

 **Background for story** : I won't make y'all read the other two parts of this series, entitled _Lost in You,_ so I'll do my best to summarise it here. If you have read them, feel free to ignore this and jump onto the story, and enjoy! For the rest of you, basically back when Sam was soulless, he and Meg had a one-night-stand type deal _(Let Me Inside)_ and after that, the two are separated until their canonical meet-up in season eight, where Sam learns that their last encounter had actually resulted in Meg getting pregnant. Crowley had found out about it, and kidnapped her and planned on raising Meg's ironically named child, Angela, hoping to use her half-human, half-demon abilities for himself, leading Angela to believe he was her real father. Sam willingly threw himself into Crowley's hands in hopes of finding a way to escape with Angela in tow, and, spoiler alert for _Let Me Get Close to You,_ he succeeds. He brings both Angela and Meg back to the bunker, and Meg decides to stay because it's the safest place she and Angela can be. Not to mention that she gets to have sex with Sam pretty much anytime they're bored. (No smut in this story, just FYI.) I ship them both so much, but even by the end of this story there's still no real romance between the two of them, but I'm kind of loving that dynamic. Okay, I hope I've cleared everything up, and caught y'all up. If there are any questions about something I may not have covered here, feel free to ask me, I'd hate for you to be confused. That said, onto the story!

* * *

The Winchesters' lives had always been weird. Suddenly throw a half-demon, half-human toddler, and her full-demon mother into the mix, and things'll get even weirder. The weirdest part of it though wasn't Angela's constantly fluctuating abilities and how she'd use them to lash out when she was upset. No, it was Meg. A fairly powerful demon, yet she'd chosen to stay behind with the Winchesters, and she'd willingly accepted her role as a mother, and she honestly wasn't that bad at it either.

Yeah, weird.

Not to mention the casual fucking sessions Sam and Meg would have. Neither her nor Sam particularly liked one another, but both of them did have a lot of pent up frustration that often needed- release.

Other than that, Meg pretty much stayed out of their way, besides always stealing their food and beer, yet she refused to ever go out and buy any herself. Demons made shitty roommates. Plain and simple. Meg was further proving that statement as she sat on the couch, crumpling her fourth beer can and carelessly tossing it on the floor.

Huffing as he watched her, Sam asked, "Would it kill you to pick up after yourself once in a while?"

Meg shrugged. "Who knows, may it would. Better safe than sorry." She reached for another beer.

"Okay, that's nearly half a pack, if you're the one drinking it all, you should be the one to start buying it."

"Ysee, I would, but I'm afraid I'm a high-demand item. Too many demons wanna sink their claws into me, so I'm probably better off just staying here."

"Oh, what, and demons don't try to kill me every other week?"

"Did I mention that I think I'm catching a cold?" She gave an obviously fake cough.

"Demons don't even get si- oh, forget it."

Meg smirked in victory, then she turned her head at the sound of someone walking into the room. "Morning, Dean."

Dean scowled briefly, still not sure how he felt about how she and Sam would casually have sex with each other whenever the hell they wanted. He felt like he could never sit down anywhere anymore. He squinted disapprovingly at the mess she left behind.

"Little early isn't it for- five beers?! Seriously?" Dean asked.

"I'm sick." She fake coughed again.

"Course you are." He rubbed a hand over his face, but then turned his attention to his brother. "Think I found us a hunt, Sammy. If you're feeling up to it."

Ever since Sam had completed the first trial, Dean had been even more of a mother hen than usual. Constantly asking Sam if he was alright, or making him soup all the damn time. It was good soup though. But it was still annoying. Sam was a grown man, not a little kid stuck home sick from school. So he spouted out the typical Winchester response.

"I'm fine."

"You sure? No freaky, glowing arms or anything?"

"I'm good, I promise. What's the hunt?"

"Pretty demon-y."

"How do you know?"

"There's a surveillance video of the incident. Whole bar full of people got torn apart, and right at the end, the camera caught a glimpse of the guy's face."

"Lemme guess, black eyes?"

"Bingo." Dean confirmed. "It's just a couple hours out, you feeling up to it?"

Sam sighed wearily, but his exhaustion had nothing to do with the trials. "For the last time, Dean, I'm fine."

Dean raised his hands defensively. "Sorry, just checking. I'll go grab our stuff and meet you in the car."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Saaaammmmy!" A tiny voice called from across the bunker. Looked like Angela was awake. Sam sighed as he headed over to his room. They had given Angela her own, but she'd gotten into the habit of crawling in with him during the night, along with starting to call him, "Sammy" since that was what both Dean and Meg called him, much to his dismay.

Angela sat up in Sam's bed, and she rubbed her eyes in the classic display of a recently woken up child. The almost straight-up bed-head was also quite the amusing sight.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" Sam asked as he made his way over to her. She immediately lifted her arms to him, wanting to be held. A small smile tugged at Sam's lips at that. Angela may not yet grasp the fact that he was her real dad, but at least she loved him like one. Sam scooped his little girl into his arms, and she locked her arms around his neck, nuzzling sleepily into his shoulder.

"I wan' b'eakfast." She grumbled.

"Okay, I'll have mama make you some breakfast, cuz I've gotts get to work soon."

Sam heard her sharp inhalation, and a small squeak that bordered on a sob.

Not good.

"Angela, we've talked about thi-" He was cut off as Angela dissolved into a fit. She was quite skilled in the art of temper tantrums. Her furious cries were muffled by Sam's shoulder. She beat her tiny fists against his chest, and further tightened her grip around his neck.

"Angela," Sam said in a calm but stern tone. "I'm going to work, but I'll be back. You and I can play all you want when I'm done, but right now you need to let go, find your mom, and ask her to make you breakfast like a big girl."

"No!" She shrieked, and simultaneously, one of Sam's books flew off his bookcase and hit the wall. Great. One of _these_ kinds of tantrums.

"Am I gonna have to put you in time-out?" Sam asked, pointing at the chair in the middle of a devil's trap facing the corner of Sam's wall. The fear of the dreaded time-out chair quieted Angela in an instant.

"No time-out, no time-out!" She whimpered, clutching desperately at Sam's shirt, almost like she was trying to hide in it. She wiped her nose as she gave a small huff. "Lemme come with you."

That caused a slight tug at Sam's heart. "No, Angie. Somebody's gotta stay here and take care of your mom. You can do that, can't you?"

Pouting briefly, Angela shifted her eyes as she considered the challenge. "'Kay."

"There's my girl." Sam held her a little closer, a fleeting plea of how he hoped that someday she might know that she really is _his_ girl.

"I love you." He told her as he gave her one more hug.

"I love you more." She pecked his cheek.

"And I love you most." He kissed her forehead, and set her down, and watched her waddle off to find Meg. He then heard the Impala's horn go off, Dean apparently having grown too impatient to wait any longer. Sam made his way to the car, and plopped himself down beside his brother.

"She throw a fit?" Dean asked as he started up the engine.

"Yeah, but she only threw a book this time. Nothing got broken like last week."

"And those were nice plates too, you know."

Sam gave Dean a quizzical look.

"What?" Dean asked. "Went over thirty years without ever having anything decent to eat off of. Now that we've got it, I'd appreciate it if your daughter didn't break shit any time she doesn't get chocolate for dinner."

"She was raised by the King of Hell and demons for the first two and a half years of her life, we're lucky the worst of her habits are just regular tantrums that sometimes result in dented walls."

"Guess you're right. Oh, and we'll probably have to pick up some food on the way back from the hunt. Meg's probably taking it all again and blaming it on Angela. Speaking of Meg, are you two still-…?" Dean asked, wary of the answer he might get. He had a good idea of what it was, he was mostly just wanting to be wrong. Sam's flushing cheeks were answer enough though. "Just- stay out of my room." Dean joked. His heart nearly stopped when Sam's eyes instantly darted away from him. "Sam?" Dean asked, dread building up in his gut. "Sammy, please tell me you didn't."

Oh, God, Sam was _smirking._

"Consider it payback for all those times you made me sleep in the Impala whenever you had a girl over."

"Sam!"

* * *

 **AN:** So this was mostly setting up the rest of the story, but I'm very happy with how this whole piece turned out. Next chapters should be up soon since they're both already all written in my handy notebook, I've just gotta type them up. I'm sure most of y'all know what fully completed chapters means…

 **Sneak Peek:** "His heart briefly stopped when he painfully realised that the demon had indeed done its job, and had sliced right through Sam's anti-possession tattoo."

That cover photo starting to maybe make a bit more sense? Hehe, I love the next chapter. I hope you guys enjoyed this one, and if so, please let me know by dropping a review. I shall see y'all soon with the next chapter!


	2. Or End Up at the Bottom

**AN:** As so kindly pointed out by M. J. Ellsworth, I neglected to mention Angela's age for any new viewers out there. She's around two and a half to anyone who was confused about that. Also didn't mention that when Sam let himself get taken by Crowley he was tortured rather brutally, because when don't I do that to him, and has re-occurring nightmares about the incident. One thing that I love about writing in season eight is being able to make Crowley a true villain like he deserves. The guy is powerful, and as much as I love him as the awkward sort of side-kick, I love him as the one and only King of Hell, and that's what y'all are in store for. Enjoy chapter two!

* * *

"So what do you think?" Sam asked as they began packing their demon-hunting gear. "Talk to the vics' families, try to scope out for anybody suspicious, or demon-y?"

"It's as good a start as any. Guy's clearly not the sharpest tool in the shed. Goes on a huge killing spree, doesn't even try to hide its face, or any of the evidence. Probably fresh outta Hell. I'm not complaining though, gives us an open and shut case for once."

"When was the last time we had an honest, 'open and shut case,' Dean?"

"I know, it'll be nice to catch a break, huh?"

"No, what I mean is we shouldn't take this lightly, or hope for the best, because whenever we do that we always get the worst."

Dean sighed. "I guess you're right. What other suggestions you got?"

"See if we can track down the demon. Check out the bar it attacked, ask if anyone's seen the vessel."

"The bar's still open? Damn. Probably gonna have a lot of shaken up family members there to talk to. Alcohol might help loosen their tongues. None of that, 'you wouldn't believe me if I told you' shit."

"Alright then. Let's get our fed suits and-"

"Nah." Dean cut him off. "I say we just go as curious tourists, say we're just passing through town and heard about the murders, and want to know if anyone there knows anything about them. C'mon, Sammy, doesn't all that lying get to you sometimes?"

Sam wasn't fooled for one second. "You're just hoping to meet a girl, aren't you?"

Dean gave a small wink. "Don't wait up for me tonight."

Along with a small head shake, Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Dean. Just make sure you have your priorities straight. We're here for the hunt."

"Just wondering, was one of the possible side-effects of the trials a gigantic stick up the ass?"

Sam shot him a classic bitchface, but said nothing more on the matter as he completed gathering their gear. "Alright, I think we're ready."

"Then let's roll."

The brothers piled into the car, and much to Sam's dismay, Dean had his music on full blast, yet it still wasn't loud enough to drown out his off-key belting. Sam was more than relieved when they finally reached the bar, so long as it just meant the end of this torment. They each grabbed their respective weapons. Sam, the demon killing knife, and Dean, the angel blade, and then they headed inside.

Immediately spying an undeniably attractive girl, Dean smirked and started to head over. He didn't even make it two steps before Sam's hand clamped onto his shoulder.

"I'm just gonna talk to her." Dean whined.

"No, Dean, look!" Sam ordered in a harsh whisper as he pointed to a poorly lit corner of the bar.

Dean's eyes darted to where his brother pointed, and then they widened in disbelief, because sitting _right freaking there_ with a damn shot of whiskey in his hand was the demon. Or at the very least, his meatsuit.

"How the hell did he even get in here?" Dean asked.

"I-I don't know, maybe he just snuck in, or the bartender doesn't recognise him. Pretty sure he killed just about everyone in the bar that got a good look at him. So- what do we do? We can't just go up to him and put all these people in danger."

"We keep out of his way, then we follow him wherever he goes once he leaves."

As if on cue, the demon- guy maybe?- stood up, and headed for the door. The brothers briefly glanced at one another, just the slightest bit suspicious of their luck. They kept their distance as the man walked several blocks until he headed into what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse.

Cliché much?

Making eye-contact once more, the brothers silently made a plan to circle around the place once before barging in, just to make sure they weren't about to burst in on some demon love-making nest or something.

After scoping out the building and not having come across anything crazy having peeked through the windows, Sam and Dean decided that they were ready to go in. Dean, as usual, went in first, and Sam followed close behind.

Other than the metal door swing open, no sound was heard throughout the warehouse. The pair cautiously moved forwards, poising their weapons in every direction… except for behind them. Which of course gave the demon the perfect opportunity to lunge at Sam out from his hiding place behind the door. He jumped out without a sound, and quickly sliced into Sam's chest.

Sam shouted a brief cry of pain, immediately gaining his brother's attention.

"Sammy!"

Rage now coursing through his body, Dean made quick work of finishing the demon off with one swift thrust of the angel blade right into its heart. Its face sparked the classic orange, until it faded away, signifying its death.

"You okay, little brother?" Dean asked, concern coating his voice.

Sam had a hand pressed to the steadily but not heavily bleeding wound on his chest. He nodded, because he'd definitely had worse. Well- when his idea of "worse" included things only true dwellers of Hell itself could even hope to comprehend, his scale might be a little skewed.

"Well then." Dean said. "Guess that's over."

"Oh please." A familiar voice chuckled from the walkway above them. "You make it too easy to make a dramatic entrance, Squirrel."

Dean's jaw clenched, and Sam grit his teeth.

"Crowley." Dean practically growled. "Thought you had better things to do than worry about what happens topside."

"Bit of fresh air does wonders, especially when it's tinged with that special scent of Winchester blood."

"Well your goon did a real shitty job of finishing us off." Sam said. "Barely even got one hit in before we killed him."

That made Crowley laugh. "Oh, Moose, if I wanted to kill you I wouldn't have sent one of my lowest ranking subjects to do it. No, I'd want to be the one who gets that honour."

"Well then what was the point of this?" Dean asked. "You just want to have this boring meet-up?"

"Don't flatter yourself, but more importantly," Crowley's eyes flashed red. "Don't underestimate me. I gave that demon a job, and when I give an order, it's obeyed."

Sam couldn't help but scoff. "And what job, exactly, was that?"

Crowley only smirked, and then his red smoke erupted from his body, and started barreling towards them. What was he doing? He couldn't possess them so long as they had their-

Dean's eyes went wide in horror as he looked at Sam's chest, praying for his thoughts not to be true. His heart briefly stopped when he painfully realised that the demon had indeed done its job, and had sliced right through Sam's anti-possession tattoo. Sam looked at Dean with pure panic for one moment before Crowley's smoke slammed into him with so much force that he was knocked clean off his feet.

"Sammy!" Dean rather recklessly ran to his brother's side, not caring about his own self-preservation, not when his little brother was at risk. The sight of Sam's eyes snapping open to reveal hateful, glowing red orbs was not an image Dean would ever be able to forget.

Sam chuckled in a voice so unlike his own.

"He's still having nightmares about our last encounter. How touching. I'm almost tempted to let you both live after this just to watch the toll it takes on your oh so fragile minds." Crowley shook his head as he stood up. "Almost." He flicked Sam's fingers at Dean, sending him careening into the far wall. "Oh, if only you could hear him screaming now. He wants you to run, leave him, save yourself. But I'm sure you could've guessed that."

Dean grit his teeth, so hard he was sure they would crack, but he quickly switched tactics and started reciting an exorcism.

"Boring." Crowley shut him by flicking his fingers again, forcing Dean's head to slam into the wall. "Now, if this had gone the way I'd hoped, I would have just popped in dear Moose's head, found out where my favourite whore and anti-Christ are, and then ended all of you, and retake what is rightfully mine." Crowley then frowned and put a hand onto his head, briefly looking like he was in pain. "But he's being more stubborn that I'd thought. He's trying to keep me out of any important memories, specifically, where you've been holed up. It's an unbearably annoying inconvenience, so would you mind just bucking up and telling me yourself?"

"Go to hell, you son of a bitch." Dean ground out.

Crowley rolled Sam's eyes. "Fine. If he won't let me in those memories, why don't I just open the floodgates of some other ones instead?" He fucking _winked_ at Dean, and not a moment later Sam collapsed to the ground, limbs convulsing as he tried to choke down what appeared to be screams.

"Sammy?!" Dean rushed over to Sam, trying to gauge what Crowley did to him.

"N-no…" Sam whimpered, fucking _whimpered,_ seemingly unaware of his true surroundings. "Pl-please stop. Please…"

That was all Dean had to hear in order to figure out just what had happened. Dean knew those sounds. He had made those sounds for thirty years before turning around and causing other people to make them for another ten years. Those were the sounds of a tortured and truly broken soul. Crowley had found Sam's Cage memories, and was now assaulting his brother's already trial-wearied mind with them.

"Dammit, Crowley, stop!" Dean border-line pleaded. "You don't know what those memories will do to him!"

Crowley then resumed control with another chuckle at both Dean's desperation, and Sam's screaming from within his own head.

"Oh, I'm fully aware of what they'll do to him, which is why I'm offering you the chance to stop me before it goes too far. Tell me where to find my girls, and I'll let both of you go."

Not that Dean would have considered it either way, but Dean knew Crowley was lying. And Dean knew exactly what kind of damage Crowley could do with a weapon as powerful as a human-demon hybrid in his hands. So he politely declined Crowley's offer with the same way any respectable guy would.

"Go fuck yourself."

Dean's remark was then answered with the feeling of Ruby's demon killing knife sinking into his side. His vision went pure white, and for a moment, although he might have screamed, all he heard was the sound of Sam's laughter.

* * *

 **AN:** Oh, sorry, did you not want a cliffhanger? My bad, y'all were totally sending mixed signals about that ;) But worry not, I will not keep you in suspense for very long. Although the preview for next chapter may not make you hate me any less…

 **Sneak Peek:** "Lucifer nodded in acceptance. Or so Sam had thought, because the next thing Lucifer did was stick his hand right back into Sam's gut.

'Not before I'm done, my sweet, little bitch.'"

Next chapter is definitely my favourite. I won't make y'all wait too long, I promise. I'd love to know what you're thinking of the story so far, so please leave a review if you've got the time. See y'all soon!


	3. To See How It All Ends

**AN:** Sorry for the wait, exam week is coming upand- I could say I've been studying, but actually the looming threat of finals has just been pushing me to procrastinate everything even more than usual so-… my bad. But I'm here at last with the final and my favourite chapter, but I will warn you, **extremely graphic violence warning.** Not for the squeamish, and it may be pushing the T rating, but I don't think it's too much if you watch the show. Without further ado, thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Sam screamed as Lucifer yanked another chain out from inside him, chunks of his innards tearing free with it. Sweat and blood slicked down his naked torso, and he nearly choked on a sob as he bit into his cheek to keep himself from whimpering at this agony. His hands tensed into tight fists as they futilely tugged at the restraints keeping his arms over his head.

"Alright, step one is complete!" Lucifer announced with glee, clapping his hands together, which collided with a wet splat since they were coated in Sam's blood.

Sam's head drooped to his chest, and he clenched his eyes shut. Not a moment later, he heard Lucifer snap his fingers, and clamps immediately pinched his upper eyelids and forcefully pried them open, causing Sam to cry out in misery. He saw Lucifer's pout in front of his face as his senses returned to him.

"Sammy, you're being rude. I told you I wanted to show you a magic trick, and you won't even look at me." He tsked and shook his head at his prisoner like a parent scolding a disobedient child. Sam had always hated feeling this inferior.

"I've always been a fan," Lucifer continued, not at all acknowledging Sam's pain. "Of the one where the magician pulls all the cloth out of his hand. Seriously, how's he do that? I thought I'd try it out today. Unfortunately, I'm all out of handkerchiefs, so I'm making do with what I have." That said, Lucifer plunged his icy hand into one of the gaping wounds in Sam's abdomen.

Mouth wide in a soundless scream of agony, Sam was completely helpless, unable to move beyond quivering in pain as Lucifer's hand continued to fish around his insides. He finally made a loud cry once Lucifer's fingers gripped something inside him. Sam made brief pleading eye contact, fearfully knowing where this was headed. Lucifer only smiled at him in response, and then he started _pulling._

A wet, sucking sound reverberated off the walls of the Cage as Lucifer began dragging- _something_ out of Sam. Sam was too horrified to look down at first, but when he'd been tortured as much as he had already, what was the harm of seeing it? His head dropped down to see his intestine sliding out of him with borderline comical speed. Sam actively gagged on nothing when he felt the moment the last of his intestine was ripped from him. His body shook helplessly as he internally pleaded for death if it meant escape from this torment, but the fact that he remained alive and breathing meant that Lucifer was far from done with him.

"What kinda bullshit is this?" Lucifer asked with all the disdain of a petulant toddler. He picked up the fallen intestine and began inspecting it, which of course meant gently caressing the damn thing, and even going so far as to _lick_ it. "Yeah, definitely the large intestine." He huffed. "Then why's it so dad-damn short? Okay, guess I'm gonna have to try the other one."

"N-no…" Sam managed weakly. He couldn't take this anymore. He'd been broken since day fucking one.

"Hm. Ask me in that way I love so much." Lucifer said passively.

Sam did whimper this time. "Pl-please, stop. Please."

Lucifer nodded in acceptance. Or so Sam had thought, because the next thing Lucifer did was stick his hand right back into Sam's gut.

"Not before I'm done, my sweet, little bitch."

Sam knew Lucifer liked it, no, _loved_ it when he screamed, but he'd reached that point in the day, _always reaches that point, every day, every damn day for the rest of eternity,_ where he no longer cared about preserving his own dignity.

That horrible squelching sound returned as Lucifer once again began tearing his intestine out of him.

"That's more like it." Lucifer exclaimed over Sam's wretched screaming. "I can just keep going, and going, and _going."_ He said as he continued to spill Sam's innards out on the ground below. "And it doesn't stop. They should have called this one the large intestine, it's way longer than the other one. I think it's just because the other one's got a bigger diameter. Details, am I right?" The horrific game continued, and Sam almost missed the distant voice over his own agonised cries.

" _Sammy, c-c'mon!"_

That voice. It was- but it couldn't be-

"D-Dean?" He barely even whispered it, but Lucifer still heard it, He heard everything Sam ever said, and he immediately gripped Sam's chin, forcing him to make eye contact with him.

"What have I told you about using that name down here?" He painfully dug his thumb and pointer finger into Sam's cheeks, making him cry out as his mouth was forced open. "Am I gonna have to cut out your tongue again?"

Tears stung Sam's eyes, and as usual, he blamed the heat of Hell rather than his own weakness.

" _It-it's not real, I promise!"_ Came Dean's voice again. Sam wanted to scream at the voice how it sure as hell _felt_ real, but then it spoke once more. And it really sounded like he was in a lot of pain.

" _Please, I n-need you, Sammy. You can do this. Come back to me, little brother."_

Memories began flashing through Sam's head. The hunt. The warehouse. Getting cut by the demon. Suddenly seeing-

Crowley! He was possessing Sam right now, and he was forcing him back into his Cage memories, which meant he was currently all alone with- Dean!

"No!" Sam screamed, but this time, it wasn't out of weakness. It was out of roaring determination to take back control. He had taken down the Devil when he had to, so fighting back Crowley, even trial-wearied was _nothing._ Not to Sam Winchester, and especially not when his brother needed him.

Crowley attempted to claw at Sam's brain, but even as weak as Sam had appeared to be, he easily overpowered Crowley. He felt the swell of victory for just a split second before he laid eyes on Dean. His own hands gripped the hilt of Ruby's knife, which was currently plunged into his brother's shoulder. He also had several more cuts littered across his torso, and his face was already swelling with blue and purple bruises. God, _he'd_ done this to him…

Dammit, Sam, that mindset wasn't going to help Dean right now. Sam knew what he had to do, only he wasn't sure that it would work. He could only pray that it did.

"E-exorcizamus te…"

" _Oh, come on."_ Crowley hissed at Sam from inside his head. So it _was_ working.

"Omnis immudis spiritus, omnis satanica potestas-"

" _Fine, I'll take the hint."_ Crowley interrupted. _"This isn't over, Moose."_ And then Sam was choking on red smoke as Crowley ripped himself out of Sam, and hurried back to his original meatsuit. "You better hurry. Squirrel isn't looking too good." Crowley waved at Sam, and then he vanished.

Concern overpowered Sam's anger at himself for letting Crowley get away, so he quickly favoured his attention on the one who really needed it.

"Dean? Dean, hey, are you with me?" Sam asked in a bit of a panic. His heart soared in relief as Dean gave a pained groan. "Thank God. I-I'm so sorry, Dean, I tried to fight him-"

"Stop it." Dean cut him off. "Not your fault, you know that. Let's just let this be over, alright?" He winced as he shifted. "Help me up?" He held out his good arm, which Sam took and pulled Dean to his feet. He then draped Dean's arm over his own shoulder as they started to leave that godforsaken place.

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay?" Sam asked.

"Just give me something to tie around my shoulder. I'll be fine until we get home, then you can patch me up. What about you, how's the chest?"

"It's fine." Sam said somewhat distantly. He and Dean both knew that Sam's chest wasn't really what was bothering him the most. Being possessed was not something Sam took lightly, especially considering how he'd nearly killed his brother each and every time it happened. Not to mention how this time around Crowley had forced Sam to relive his Hell memories, something Dean understood all too well.

"What about the rest of you?" Was the best way Dean could think to ask without being too blunt.

Sam could've lied. He could have pulled the classic Winchester, "I'm fine," and pushed away all mental hurt, like they both usually did. But the trial had made him weak before, vulnerable even. And Sam knew that his brother deserved better than a half-assed lie after how well Dean had taken care of him.

"Honestly? No, no right now. But I know that I can be. I-I'm hopeful for the future, Dean. And I really mean that this time." He gave a small but genuine smile. "I really do think what we're gonna be alright."

* * *

Sam was not alright. Shortly after he'd brought Dean home, patched him up, and sentenced him to bedrest, he'd simultaneously turned into everyone's caretaker. From trying to figure out how to make tomato rice soup just the way Dean likes, to constantly having to buy more food, thanks again, Meg, to also having to keep an eye on the tantrum prone Angela- it was safe to say that he was getting exhausted.

Were Sam to tell Dean how he was truly feeling, Dean certainly wouldn't have let Sam continue to run himself rampant, but Sam did feel rather guilty for Dean getting hurt, despite him knowing that _he_ wasn't really the one who had hurt him, but he _was_ the one who had barged into that warehouse so damn unprepared. Not to mention how he didn't immediately notice that the demon had cut through his tattoo. Or how he-

"Sammy, is something burning?"

Dammit, not again! Sam rushed to the kitchen and shut off the stove. Luckily nothing had burst into flames this time, and the soup still tasted fine.

"We're good, Dean!" Sam called out to him. "Be right there."

"Mm, smells like home in here." Meg said with a sly smile.

"You mean Hell? Wow, thanks." Sam deadpanned as he poured the soup into a bowl for Dean, which Meg immediately took from him and took one big mouthful from.

"Could use a little more onion powder." She said, smacking her lips.

Sam snatched the bowl back, replying with, "I was thinking it could use more salt, that way you wouldn't be able to have any."

Meg pouted. "Now you're just trying to hurt my feelings."

"Sammy?" Came Dean's voice from his room.

"Coming!"

"By the way," Meg added just as he was nearly past her. "We're out of beer again. You'll need to make a run into town sometime today."

"Fine." Sam huffed as he tried to brush by her once more.

"Oh, and Angela broke a bookcase, so you should probably fix that."

"Okay." Sam said, noticeably more irritation in his voice this time.

"Sammy?" Dean called again.

"Oh, and, Sammy-"

"Sammy-"

"Shut up!" Sam finally snapped at the third voice that had called his name, and he even dropped the bowl of soup, which then clattered to the floor, and promptly shattered. Wait, third voice? The only other person there was-

Shit.

Sam quickly turned around to see poor Angela standing there with a picture she had clearly coloured for him. But now her bottom lip was quivering, and the second he took a step towards her, she darted off to her room.

More mad at himself than anyone else now, Sam slammed his fist on the counter. "Dammit!"

"Hey," Meg said with a hint of actual sympathy in her voice. "You go get her, I'll take care of this."

Sam swore he literally felt a weight taken off his shoulders. Meg finally seemed determined to help him out for once.

"Thank you, Meg." He said sincerely. He briefly smiled at her, and then headed after his little girl.

Not surprisingly, she had closed the door behind her, but ever since they'd put one of those special door-knob covers she could no longer lock them out. But that didn't mean Sam was just going to barge in there either, so he knocked.

"Angela, sweetie? Can I come in?"

"No!" Came the immediate response. Sam could almost _hear_ the pout through the door.

"I just want to talk to you." Sam tried again.

"I don't wanna talk!" She replied, and then Sam heard the click of the door locking.

So. She'd learned how to psychically lock the door… Fantastic.

"Alright." Sam said. "If you don't want to talk, then I'll talk, and how about you just listen?" There was silence as Angela mauled it over.

"'Kay." She replied at last.

"So…" He huffed. What was the best way to explain this to a toddler? "I've been tired lately. I've been taking care of Dean, and your mom, and you a lot because I love you all so much." Well- two of them at least. "But it's made me really sleepy, and then I've gotten angry. But when I yelled at you, Angie, I wasn't really mad at you. And I'm really, really sorry."

He waited for her to reply, and then he waited some more, but she said nothing. He sighed and turned to go, figuring she just wanted some time alone in order to cool off. Not a moment later he heard the door unlock. He took that as his invitation to come in. She greeted him wordlessly at the door, and took his hand, escorting him over to the bed where she then instructed him to sit. She then scuttled over to her desk, and returned with the picture from earlier.

"It's beautiful." He told her after spending a good amount of time admiring her mess of scattered scribbles and patternless lines.

"I know." She responded with her signature modesty.

Sam chuckled. "Want me to put it on the fridge?"

She flared her nostrils in thought, a trait she'd learned from watching Sam. "I wanna do it."

"How about," He suggested. "We do it together?"

Angela smiled. "Yeah."

Sam kissed her head. "I love you."

"I love you more, daddy."

"I love you most." Sam stood up and held her hand, and started making his way to the kitchen. Then he froze. "A-Angela, what did you just call me?"

"Daddy." She repeated, somewhat irritated at having to repeat herself. She-she really meant it. She really knew… Sam didn't even realise a grateful tear had spilled past until she asked him, "Why are you crying?"

Sam gave a breathless laugh as he wiped it away. "Cuz I'm happy." He scooped her up into his arms and hugged her, and she tightly embraced him right back.

Sure, Sam had had a rough couple of days, but now he further believed what he had told Dean back at the warehouse. Everything really was going to be okay, because- yeah. Admittedly, the boy with the demon blood, Michael's vessel, a demon, and a sort of anti-Christ living under one roof was an odd mix. But know what? That was Sam's family now. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

 **AN:** Thus, we conclude another installment of _Lost in You._ Supervikinggirl, I hope I have met your expectations, and that you have thoroughly enjoyed this fic, as well as any other readers out there. If so, please let me know and drop a review. And if you'd like to see more from this Sam/Meg series, send me a request anytime. If I don't get a chance to say it again, have a very, merry Christmas, and until next time, carry on, my wayward sons!


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